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A Shout From The Attic: Return To Zin - 12

Ronnie Bray tells of a mattiage running into difficulties.

When I reached Huddersfield, I found a lodging house at the corner of Spring Street and South Street, and paid a week in
advance. I got a job at LB Holliday’s on Leeds Road, near Deighton, and a few days later went to see Mother and René. They were furious with me for not lodging with them, so I went to the boarding house and collected my things.

I asked the landlady for a refund for the unused payment for board and lodging. Her answer was to hold up a huge packet of bacon, and said pointedly, “Here’s your money!” I left disgruntled, but that was one day I did not take home the bacon.

For reasons that are not clear to me, and which I can only put down to irrationality, I had not let Esmé know where I was. It was two weeks later when I wrote to her. She said that she had been worried, not knowing whether I was alive or dead.

There were no telephones, so I wrote her a letter and sent it by Royal Mail. In those days, a letter posted one day would be
posted to 99% of addresses the following morning. I had no excuse for my defalcation, and still have not rational explanation. It was unconscionable.

I cannot remember the master plan behind our move back to Huddersfield or even if there was one. Perhaps we had discussed it, or perhaps we had not.

I worked at Holliday’s for a few weeks, doing yard work moving forty-gallon drums of materials to be made into dyestuffs. Each day, I went home a different colour.

Next, there is what I can only describe as a timeslide. Esmé came back to Huddersfield and we rented a little ancient
cottage, number four Low Fold, Kirkburton, and we moved into it. By this time, Andy was a chubby-cheeked toddler. I started training to be a Registered Mental Nurse at Storthes Hall Hospital, Kirkburton.

The experiment, if such it can be called, did not work out to Esmé’s satisfaction and she went back to her Mother’s.


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